


The Hills

by fangirlpurposes2020



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, F/F, Intoxication, M/M, More tags later, Multiple Partners, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, because werewolves can't get sick, but just for weeks after the Nogitsune possession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlpurposes2020/pseuds/fangirlpurposes2020
Summary: "But I must say they didn't do you any justice, Stiles."Stiles scoffs and narrows his eyes. "They forgot to write down that I'm fucking an alpha from another pack and may or may not smell during interrogations?" Stiles snaps bitterly."Your pictures," Theo specifies, eyes bright with something unexplainable despite the dim lights of the basement. "They don't hold a torch to how stunning you are."
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Brett Talbot, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 87





	1. you look even better than the photos

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is trash but is my guilty pleasure. Set post-season 3 but everyone lives and a bunch of events from season 1 to 3 are happily ignored! I live off Stiles and Derek, but I'm attracted to rare pairings with Stiles (especially with the attractive ones like Theo Raeken and Brett Talbot --- I'm still not recovered from his demise or with how incredibly wasted his character had been in the show). Stiles engages in sexual activities with multiple partners, okay, so if this isn't your cuppa, please kindly exit the premises. He's also 18, so not underaged hence, no tag. Also, the work is unedited by professionals, and English is not my first language so be warned.
> 
> Additional notes: Satomi is introduced in season 3, but his pack including Brett Talbot doesn't appear until season 4. In this AU fic, Satomi and her pack are already acquainted with Scott and Derek's packs against Deucalion's alpha pack. Scott and Stiles should also know Brett before season 4 since their schools are lacrosse rivals.

Stiles grips the broad shoulders tightly as Derek pounds him to the bed in wild abandon. He moans as Derek repeatedly thrusts straight to his prostate and feels like he's about to combust from the ecstasy. He reaches with one hand between their sweaty bodies to grip his cock to get the release he desperately needs. Before he can even do anything though, Derek snatches the rogue hand away and pins it to the top of his head without faltering from his brutal movements.

Stiles honestly wants to sob. They've been at it for close to an hour, but Derek isn't showing any signs of finishing yet. Although Stiles had orgasmed once earlier when they were just starting, that had been more than thirty minutes ago and he's about to go crazy if he doesn't come again soon. He loves Derek's stamina, but seriously, he can only handle so much pressure without being allowed release.

Stiles opens his eyes and looks at Derek pleadingly after another lifetime of delicious hammering to his sweet spot; the only sounds he can hear are the angry creaking of the bed, the lewd and loud slapping of skin on skin, and his constant cries of _Derek, Derek, Derek_ along with Derek's grunts and uneven breathing. The alpha meets his eyes and drops his head to bury his face in the crook of Stiles's neck to suck the sensitive skin there at the meeting of his neck and jaw. He does sob at this added torture; tightens his shaky legs' hold on Derek's waist, and runs his free hand on the werewolf's hair.

The attack to his prostate continues and Derek hardly even pulls out anymore; just rams and rams into him forcefully that Stiles is afraid his head is going to be slamming against the headboard painfully in the next hard thrusts. He can hear Derek growling his name near his ear and that sinful sound added with the unforgiving stimulation to his neck and pleasure spot inside, Stiles finally catapults to the deep end and comes almost soundlessly but in such blinding force that he temporarily loses his senses to the pleasure.

When Stiles regains himself a little, just seconds after his mini blackout, Derek is still pounding inside him but his movements are now noticeably stuttering, and he's breathing harder and harsher in his neck, the hand holding down his wrist tightening just a bit while the other one grips at the sheet beside Stiles's head. Derek's perfect aim on his oversensitive prostate has Stiles keening. " _Derek_." He calls brokenly and Derek thrusts one last time and comes deep inside Stiles with a loud, deep moan that Stiles is so proud to have coaxed out of Derek. The werewolf collapses on top of him in a worn-out heap and Stiles is happy to let him. Derek is welcome on top of Stiles, between his legs, inside him, around him, everywhere. Stiles will take Derek in every way and will let him take whatever he wants. Stiles can hold Derek in his arms forever if he can.

Derek doesn't share the sentiment.

With a grunt, Derek pulls himself out of Stiles and gets off of him to go to the bathroom without a glance at the slightly disappointed look on his face. Immediately, Stiles misses the heat from Derek's body. Derek never stays for more than a minute to bask in any post-orgasmic bliss. He always gets up as soon as he can. Honestly, Stiles doesn't know why he's still waiting for Derek to stay since this has been their routine since the beginning: Stiles comes over, Derek gives him his first orgasm, Derek fucks him, Derek gives him his second orgasm, Derek finishes, Stiles leaves.

Stiles looks over to the clock on the nightstand. It's a little past 1 am. Yup, it's time for the last step on their routine.

He sits up with a slight wince (he's definitely going to be sore for a while, as always, after every encounter with Derek) just as Derek is coming out of the bathroom with a clean towel that he hands over to Stiles wordlessly. He takes the towel from Derek with a soft thanks and cleans himself. They lapse into silence as Derek re-dresses and picks up Stiles's discarded clothes from the floor. Derek doesn't offer him the shower, not anymore, because he knows Stiles will just decline. Stiles doesn't want to linger around Derek after sex for longer than necessary --- not when Derek pointedly ignores him and busies himself with something else just to avoid looking at Stiles. He doesn't want to subject them both with unnecessary torture; Derek wishing Stiles would just hurry the fuck up and leave, and Stiles wishing Derek would just ask him to stay for once. He does them both a favor.

After pulling into his clothes once again, Stiles goes for the door. Derek doesn't see him out.

***

This arrangement started a little over four months now. Does Stiles regret it? Yes. Yes, he does, but only because he can't keep it physical. He doesn't regret the orgasms at all, but his heart is paying a hefty price to satiate his dick. Does Stiles think they should stop having sex? Yes. Yes, he does, but he doesn't exactly think with his upstairs head when he and Derek are alone. Stiles sighs, eyes steady on the dark road as he drives his way home.

Seriously, why does he torment himself? First Lydia, now Derek. Why does he keep choosing the ones who won't choose him back? He and Lydia are good friends now after he got over his superficial crush on her. But out of the frying pan into the fire because the stupid crush transferred to a much worse candidate than Lydia ever was. At least Lydia only ignored his existence back then and didn't threaten to end it many times outside the realm of his fingers and toes' count. The initial death threats and graphic description of what Derek would do to Stiles if he didn't stop being a pain in the ass shouldn't have been hot. But Stiles is problematic that way, so of course, he jumped from a hopeless crush to a catastrophic one.

His thoughts are disrupted by his phone's simultaneous notifications; a message alert immediately followed by an incoming call. He glances down at the contraption, the screen lightening up with Scott's contact photo. Nobody calls him this late unless there's an emergency, supernatural or the normal kind (always supernatural, who's he kidding), so he quickly picks up the phone and swipes to answer.

"Scott?"

"Stiles, you need to come here in the Hale house," Scott says without preamble, his voice sounding urgent.

He's already changing gears as he answers, "Give me 5 minutes."

***

Stiles arrives exactly 5 minutes later, hops out of his jeep, and hurries into the old Hale house --- Derek and Scott's (occasionally Satomi's) packs' HQ.

Ever since the three packs in Beacon Hills have allied, the three alphas unanimously voted on the Hale's burnt house to be their rendezvous point for all supernatural businesses and worked on the site's reconstruction. The living and dining area are empty so Stiles figures it must be one of those emergencies --- the ones when they have an actual hostage, supernatural or otherwise, that they have to keep within bounds.

Stiles pads down to the basement and sure enough, several familiar heads turn to his direction, stares a bit, and then back to the only unfamiliar face in the room who's currently seated on a wooden chair, hands tied with a special wolfsbane-laced rope (courtesy of Allison and Deaton's skillful hands) and mountain ash surrounding his chair. Supernatural prisoner, then.

For a brief moment, Stiles meets the prisoner's blue eyes and he feels a small twinge of recognition. The prisoner (about the same age as Stiles, if not a little older, and maybe just about the same height as well) runs an expert eye on his face before settling back on Stiles's eyes and lingering, staring him down shamelessly. A small smirk is also plastered on his face now as if satisfied by what he sees. Stiles can't help the irritation starting to surface at this boy's cocky demeanor.

Thankfully, Brett, a werewolf from Satomi's pack, interrupts the prisoner's continued stare at Stiles when he growls in a warning. "Derek asked you a question." He reminds.

The prisoner smirks at Stiles some more but looks away and back to Derek.

"I told you," he says in a lax manner. "I'm willing to cooperate if you are." He raises his bound hands pointedly.

Derek's face stays blank but Stiles notices the little tick on his jaw that's a tell-tale sign he's about to lose what little patience he has. Scott moves forward then, the picture of calm and collected. Stiles scans the others' faces and sees that almost all of them wear a distinctive frown, even Brett who's usually the epitome of Zen looks mildly irritated now. They must be getting nothing from this prisoner. That only makes Stiles proud of his best friend since he managed to out-Zen Brett Talbot. Then again, Scott has a track record of making dumber decisions when he's too relaxed and trusting than when he's conflicted. Stiles should keep a close eye on his best friend cuz it might be one of those days.

"Theo," Scott addresses the prisoner, and Stiles perks up. _Theo_? "We are going to cooperate if you just give us more than what you've initially told us."

"Which is nothing aside from the announcement that he's here with two others to kill your pack and ours but he's decided to negotiate," Brett says, face back to its default stillness, but his eyes are steely enough to betray his front.

Theo rolls his eyes but not losing his slack-ish pose. "I couldn't exactly tell you more seeing as you manhandled me to this basement even when I came under a flag of truce."

"You expected us to just stand there when you practically threatened us?" Allison raises from her perch on a nearby table and stares down hard at Theo. "Our pack, Derek's, and Satomi's?"

Theo rolls his eyes again, exasperation finally bleeding on his expression but only a little. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it without a problem. You and Scott were so engrossed with each other, I could've snuck in and put bullets between your eyes without breaking a sweat." Scott clears his throat while Allison flushes ---in annoyance or embarrassment, Stiles can't tell. Maybe both. "But I came forward voluntarily, didn't I? I fucking knocked on the door."

"So why are you refusing to tell us anything now?" Isaac snarls impatiently, appearing from a shadowy corner, eyes flashing yellow in a challenging glare.

"Isaac," Derek and Scott call warningly at the same time.

"Because," Theo turns to the angry beta with a patronizing look. He also flashes him a pair of yellow eyes in answer, but a smirk is placed on his lips once more as if to show that Isaac's disdain doesn't scare him but amuses him instead. "You refuse to accept my fair conditions."

"I don't think you're in the position to demand anything," Isaac continues even as Derek moves to put a hand to his chest, noticeably angrier at the condescension. "There's only one of you. You're a sitting dead werewolf."

Theo smirks wider. Isaac snarls in retaliation, claws coming out to view.

"Enough," Derek growls low, giving his beta a look of admonishment. Isaac turns to Derek, hunches in aggravation, but backs away in obedience to the same corner he came from to collect himself again.

Stiles decides to step in because he feels that this conversation is going to be repetitive (and it probably has been since they started); Theo won't back down, they won't back down. There's got to be a compromise and Stiles understands why Scott called him despite Allison already being there, completing the 'at least 2 members per pack' agreement during code white emergencies. If someone can negotiate for them, it's usually Stiles (or him and Brett actually but seeing as the Zen boy is currently not in the mood for cool indifference, it's up to Stiles now). They're the most diplomatic in the alliance even though he's considerably Derek-level in impatience. His winning aspect of the role is his ability to be the voice of reason despite the grinding teeth that come with it.

"What conditions are you proposing?" He directly addresses the tied-up werewolf.

Theo turns to him, face breaking into a bright grin.

"Simple," he begins, eyes roaming past Stiles face this time. Stiles fights the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. A growl is heard again from the direction of Brett and--- seriously, why is Brett being so easily ruffled today? Theo ignores him, eyes fixed on Stiles like he's the most interesting person he can face in the room. Which, come to think of it, he really might be in the sense that Stiles is the one willing to listen to the negotiation proposal, therefore, his ticket out of the binds. So he really should stop the eyeing because it's getting on Stiles's nerves. And the smirk, too. The whole asshole tactic. "First, I want these off." He gestures at the ropes. "These are unnecessary because I'm not going anywhere or killing anyone."

"The reason you're in those in the first place is that you said you were here to kill pack McCall," Allison speaks again, glaring at Theo.

"Yes. And I also said I'm negotiating the terms of my employment."

"We're not your employers." Allison snaps.

"No," Theo smiles mockingly. "Just who I'm employed to assassinate. That's why," Allison's mouth closes to a thin line and her hands are in balls of tight fists. Theo steadily remains unfazed by the hatred directed to him. He repeats slowly, emphasizing the words, like talking to a child. "I'm _negotiating_ _the terms of my employment_."

"Allison, please." Scott looks at her, voice pleading. "Let Stiles handle this." The hunter looks like she's going to protest but begrudgingly nods in the end. Scott smiles at her gratefully, and motions for Stiles to go ahead.

"What else?" He asks Theo.

"Second, you're not interrogating me. I'm not your prisoner, I'm your informant." Theo smiles confidently, eyes finding Stiles again. "So we'll have to talk like we have equal benefits from it. Because we do. And preferably on a better location than here."

Stiles's brow quirks but he doesn't comment on the condition. "Next?"

"I will allow being detained," Theo says easily as if being detained does not bother him --- which Stiles is confused about because isn't being detained, being one's prisoner? Didn't he just emphasize that he isn't one? The playful smirk and the meaningful gaze he directs at Stiles making him cautious. "But you must always be there to assure that your packmates and the other packs behave accordingly."

Stiles scoffs. "You want me to be your bodyguard?"

His smirk morphs into a softer, but still malicious, smile that Stiles does not appreciate at all. "I trust only you among everyone."

What? What's up with _that_? What, he trusts Stiles to be the weakest among everyone? He trusts Stiles to be the least dangerous among everyone? He trusts Stiles to be the easiest to manipulate among everyone? The best to take down first among everyone?

He steps forward, Theo's eyes never leaving his. Stiles leans close, fire in his eyes. "How are you sure I'm not going to murder you once we're alone in a room? I'm human but I'm not beyond that. And I especially hate when I'm being openly ridiculed for my lack of supernatural." Stiles challenges. "I'm running with wolves. You have to at least have an inkling of what I constantly have to do to survive with my pack."

Theo's cockiness depletes a little as he listens to Stiles. He doesn't look threatened though, more confused. "You think I'm underestimating you, Stiles?"

"Stop saying my name as if you know me." he hisses.

"I do, Stiles." Theo insists, his looks are unwavering. He peers up to him through his long, brown lashes. "Don't you recognize me?" His voice has a hint of disappointment if you just lean closer and listen to the tone of when he said it.

Stiles studies his face and Theo doesn't look away. As Stiles stares at the blue of his eyes, he can't help but feel the same twinge of familiarity he felt earlier. Stiles scowls, racking his brain for the memory of where he could have possibly known Theo from.

Theo.

Soft-looking brown hair. Cool blue eyes. Dark, thick eyebrows. Thin, pink lips. All defining features. His description is as mundane as many others who share the same attributes.

The way he looks at Stiles, though. Not nearly as condescending as he initially believes. It's open and even gentle. And it irritates Stiles more because he doesn't need gentleness from anyone, supernatural or otherwise, especially from supernaturals he doesn't even know. He can handle rough. He can handle Derek stomping on his heart daily. This, among many others, is nothing.

All of a sudden, in a rush of unexpected replay, it clicks into place as soon as Theo gives him another, almost not-there smile; just the littlest of tug on his lips. His eyes stare up at him, blue on light brown. Theo.

_Theo Raeken._

"Theo?" 

The smirk slides back in place, content that finally he's able to puzzle it. "Stiles."

"You know each other?" Brett asks, looking at the two back and forth, not exactly ecstatic at the development.

It's Scott who answers as Stiles continues to study this Theo. This Theo isn't the same Theo from the past. No, definitely not. They look the same, now that Stiles can put a face on the name, he can place the similarity but the difference still outweighs whatever familiarity he sees.

"Barely," Scott looks at Brett. "We were in the same classes until 4th grade when his family moved out of Beacon Hills."

"After your sister..." Stiles doesn't finish the sentence for two reasons: (1) because it's not something that should be said out loud especially that he's unrelated, and (2) because of the brief hardening of Theo's expression. Stiles clears his throat. "Okay, so we've established that Scott and I know you from 10 years ago. So what? It doesn't mean anything. No, actually, it does mean that we should be more suspicious of you now more than ever."

Theo quirks an eyebrow at that.

Stiles straightens. "Because the Theo I knew isn't certainly you." He waves his hand in Theo's sitting figure. "Theo from elementary school had a weak heart. He can barely keep up with us in P.E. And now here's you, a decade in. You're an assassin paid to slaughter a pack."

Theo shrugs, sliding his eyes to Scott as if to remind Stiles that he's currently in a pack who's alpha was a weak, asthmatic kid 10 years ago, and then back to Stiles. The human just huffs, a little put out that Theo has a point.

"So," Isaac perks up. "That means we should kill him, right?" He sounds so hopeful it's almost funny because while Isaac is easy to anger, he's not usually excited about the prospect of killing someone ---especially one who's essentially helpless to fight for himself.

Stiles sighs in resignation and rubs left his eyebrow. "No, Isaac." Isaac visibly deflates and Stiles fights the urge to pat him in the back. "That means we should abide by his conditions."

Derek frowns. "And then what?"

"He already agreed to detainment," Stiles shrugs, not looking at Derek. "So, we get the information we need, we make a plan of action from it, then we detain him for the meantime."

"We're supposed to believe him?" Lori, Brett's sister who's been quiet, finally speaks up, looking at Stiles as if what he suggests is as preposterous as releasing their prisoner into the open.

"No, we're supposed to _investigate_." Stiles corrects her. "And to do that, we need to hear him out so we can start somewhere."

Lori doesn't look convinced but she doesn't say anything more. She turns to her older brother questioningly. Brett studies Stiles for a moment and then nods in agreement. Lori sighs and looks away.

"What about his benefit from this?" Derek eyes Theo, a deep, calculating frown on his face. Like he's trying to coax the ulterior motive out of Theo's pores.

Stiles looks back at Theo. "Are you ready to tell us what your mutual gain is in this exchange?"

Theo smiles lopsidedly. "Not until I'm out of my bounds and sitting in a better room."

Stiles huffs, "Okay. But whatever it is you want, the packs will have to agree on it first before it can be granted; the chance of denial is on the table. And it'll only ever be considered if the information you give us has been proven reliable. And while the packs are investigating, you will have to be put in detainment ---sans the bind, unless you show any sign of violence at all, verbally or through action--- and will be under my watch, as you requested, along with other werewolves from Derek's and Satomi's pack." Stiles pauses and searches Theo's eyes. He doesn't seem to have any objections. "Additionally," Stiles continues more gravely. "You came into our territory and is therefore within the jurisdiction of the alliance. You arrive under a flag of truce, and we will honor it by respecting your conditions, but technically, you bear a threat to us. Coming on your own volition isn't going to save your ass if you try anything funny at all. We will give you the benefit of the doubt but that's about it. As Isaac eloquently put it," he looks into Theo's eyes meaningfully. "You _are_ a sitting dead werewolf."

Theo smirks, decidedly unaffected by the obvious threat. Stiles isn't sure if he's supposed to be amazed or disturbed by his arrogance. Stiles knows he doesn't look menacing, but he makes sure that the truthfulness of his every word bleeds out of his intense gaze and dark tone.

Stiles sneers at Theo, really disliking his asshole demeanor more and more, and then looks at the rest of the people in the basement. "Do we have a consensus? Does anyone want to amend anything, or add something?"

"Well," Brett drawls. "I'm not letting him out of my sight if you have to be around this shit." He tells Stiles.

Stiles frowns, "I can handle myself, Brett." He doesn't mean to add acid to his tone but Brett always tries to be there for Stiles, as if Stiles always needs someone to help him. As if he's some damsel in distress waiting for his knight in shining armor. He's thankful for the protectiveness, he is, but Stiles doesn't need to be coddled like an invalid. There's only so much protectiveness Stiles can allow before he looks like a liability.

Brett doesn't back down though, because he can be as stubborn as Stiles if he wants to be. "It's part of your negotiation, right? Another member of Satomi's and Derek's pack to guard him. I'm it for Satomi's."

Stiles narrows his eyes but says nothing. He doesn't want to fight Brett when he's being sensible. Instead, he turns to the two alphas in the room. After all, the final say should be from them. "Scott? Derek?"

Scott nods readily as Stiles predicted. He's always eager to give everyone a chance. Sometimes it's justifiable. Sometimes it's stupid. Fortunately, it's the former today.

Stiles drags his eyes to Derek, braving to finally look at him. Derek is still focused on Theo who's focused on Stiles who's pointedly not looking at him and therefore focuses on Derek. So they knew each other from elementary school. That doesn't mean he can eye at Stiles like that. It's making Stiles's hair stand in the places Theo's eyes seem to be boring holes into ---like his skin is hyper-aware of being scrutinized so closely.

Finally, Derek meets Stiles's eyes. He inwardly admonishes himself for that little skip of a heartbeat. God, he's so pathetic, right? But he comforts himself by thinking it's just a normal reaction when you lock eyes with the man who was pounding the senses out of you not an hour ago. It's instinctive; a valid response to a carnal memory. Fuck, Stiles hasn't even showered. Maybe that's why Scott, Brett, Isaac, and even Theo's faces twitched a little on his arrival while Derek pointedly remains stoic. He must reek of sex and Derek and it's infiltrating the sensitive noses of every supernatural present in this cramped and damp box of a room.

It's not exactly a secret, but it's not a confirmed knowledge either. Scott knows, of course, he's his best friend, and Stiles is obligated to tell him of his relationship (or lack, thereof) especially with another werewolf, and an alpha that they're allied with, no less. It doesn't mean Scott needs to know when it happens, though. Brett knows too. But the rest are just suspecting. Now he came barging in with a clear answer.

"That's it for now," Derek announces. He walks around from the side to face Theo, pressing at Stiles a little who immediately steps back to make room. "We will move you out of here in the morning when Satomi's here and more pack members are around to listen." He glances at Stiles. "Stiles, is it okay if you watch him here just until the morning?"

Stiles nods, insides traitorously twisting at Derek's concern. "Yes, that's fine." He agrees embarrassingly quickly. He remembers he's not in Derek's pack though, so he looks over to Scott for permission his alpha easily gives, too. Scott rarely disagrees when Stiles already agrees, anyway. He trusts Stiles's judgment, and for that, he is infinitely grateful.

"I'm staying, as well," Brett announces, eyes on Stiles, just like he promised moments ago. "Lori will go back to Satomi to relay the message."

"I'll call Erica, Boyd, and Cora," Isaac tells Derek who nods in consent and the beta exits the basement.

"I'll go with Lori. I'll drive her home," Scott adds. Lori nods with a twitch in her lips. He turns to his girlfriend. "Call the others?"

Allison smiles and gives Scott a small kiss before disappearing out, too, Scott and Lori behind her.

Stiles is left in the basement with Derek, Brett, and their prisoner who's still adamant about making Stiles uncomfortable. He heaves a deep sigh.

Great.

***

Derek hauls the small table in the side and puts it in front of Theo within a considerable distance, careful not to jostle the mountain-ash that Allison placed around his chair earlier. Next, he slides a wooden chair by the table so Stiles can sit directly across Theo. Brett takes a chair of his own and sits on Stiles's left while Derek perches himself on a chair to his right. The silence is even more awkward than Theo's watchful gaze.

He's well aware that he reeks of the activity he just had a couple of hours before with the actual person he was doing it with just inches away from him. And he's aware that the three supernaturals are aware of his awareness and it's making Stiles squirm in his seat, eyes fixed on the tabletop. The soreness and remnants of Derek's come in his ass are not helping matters at all.

"I have spare clothes in my gym bag," Brett breaks the thick silence. "You can shower and change, if you want."

Stiles's cheeks heat up at the implication. So, Brett has given up and acknowledges the elephant in the room. It must smell _bad_. Stiles doesn't know if he should be thankful or mortified.

After a pause, Derek stands. "I'll get the shower ready." He leaves without another word or glance at their direction, his back rigid and tense.

Of course, he'd be the quickest to aid in removing his scent on Stiles. Stiles breathes in deep; he can handle Derek and his brazen rejection. Stiles nods at Brett who's face is now carefully void of untoward emotions.

He stands and places a pocket knife in front of Stiles. "It's laced with wolfsbane." He tells Stiles but his eyes are on Theo who only smirks at him. God, he's still smirking? Has he been smirking the whole time? "It'll sink prettily between blue eyes."

"Thanks," Stiles mutters.

With one last glance at Theo, Brett exits the basement to retrieve his gym bag with the promised spare clothes.

***

He knows Derek and Brett aren't gone for more than two minutes, but it feels like forever now that he's alone with Theo. Stiles knows he shouldn't be nervous. Theo is bound with wolfsbane-laced ropes and trapped in a thick circle of mountain ash. He's also in possession of a blade with wolfsbane essence. He should relax. They'll be back in 5 minutes or less. Besides, _he can handle himself_ , he reminds himself firmly.

"You're still the same, and yet very different from years ago." Theo, seeing the chance to run his mouth, does so. His eyes are still trained carefully on Stiles and the human is almost at his wit's end.

"It's called growing up, Theo." He snaps.

Theo smirks. He likes smirking a lot. Okay, so Stiles rescinds his previous statement. Theo does have an identifier: his fricking _arrogant smirk_ that Stiles wants to slap left and right to get off his face. He's aggravating, crawling inside Stiles's skin like an unwelcome itch. It's not even more than a couple of hours and Stiles already can't stand the sight of him. It's so frustrating how even when he doesn't talk, he's getting on everybody's nerves just by the look on his face. And when he opens his mouth, it gets even much worse because they do need him to talk so they can get a damn clue what Theo's motives are. They can't gag him or put a sack over his head (and Stiles is tempted to do both) because then, keeping him is pointless.

"You did grow up nicely," Theo comments offhandedly, taking Stiles aback. "Not that you were less attractive when we were younger. You've just..." He pauses and runs another critical assessment on Stiles from head to chest and then to the table as if he can see right through it to the parts of Stiles hidden underneath it. He finishes his statement in a quiet voice. "become more."

Stiles grits his teeth and his nostril flares. "More _what_?"

Theo meets his eyes again, a different, more intense look showing in his expression. "Desirable." He says the word without missing a beat as if using that description on someone so casually is normal.

Okay, so he's _definitely_ _not_ a fan of the guts. He wants to twirl said guts with a giant fork.

"And it seems I'm not the only one who appreciates that," He leans towards the table. Stiles's hand gets ready to grab at the knife when necessary. Theo doesn't miss the stance but just plows on with his grating tone, whispering conspiratorially. "If the stench of sex fuming off of you is anything to go by."

"Shut up," Stiles warns in a low but no-nonsense tone. "Or I'll make you."

The quality of his voice gets even raspier. "Do you know how many innuendos I can make from that statement alone?"

Stiles blinks. What the hell is wrong with this person, coming on to Stiles like that? If he thinks he can mess with Stiles's head enough to actually get Stiles to do something stupid and release him or fight him or kill him or _something_ , he's dead wrong. He can handle him. He can handle Derek, he can handle Brett, he can definitely handle _Theo_.

Not the way he handles Derek and Brett _obviously_ , no matter how Theo blatantly suggests it, but in general. He can handle Theo _in general_. Stiles groans. He really wants to throttle this werewolf --just one, tight clench to the neck--- to indulge his sudden thirst for violence that only ever surfaces when Stiles is around the worst persons he could ever have the misfortune of meeting. Theo is quickly joining the list. He seems to have zero self-preservation with all the haughty persona going on, anyway, so if he gets beaten he totally has it coming.

Stiles chooses to not dignify the risque comment with a reply. He supposes it was intended to be rhetorical anyway, but Stiles makes sure to show defiance even when he doesn't say anything.

Theo understands the look with no problem. He even shakes his head a little fondly. _Fondly_. "I know I was right to take on this assignment."

Stiles still doesn't say a word but quirks an eyebrow moments later at the reference to his _assignment_.

Theo gets the gesture as an invitation to go on. "Right when I saw you in the target profiles."

Stiles frowns. _Target profile_. That does sound plenty serious and alarming if there's a target profile for them that's involved. Stiles finds himself thrilled and terrified to know more. If Theo's lying, he's an effective storyteller because he knows how to pique the interest of his audience.

 _If Theo's lying_ , Stiles's vicious mind adds, _then they have the perfect reason to off with his head_. See if he's still smirking then, the asshole.

"But I must say they didn't do you any justice, Stiles."

Stiles scoffs and narrows his eyes. "They forgot to write down that I'm fucking an alpha from another pack and may or may not smell during interrogations?" Stiles snaps bitterly.

"Your pictures," Theo specifies, eyes bright with something unexplainable despite the dim lights of the basement. "They don't hold a torch to how stunning you are."

Stiles doesn't get to reply (not that he has one) because the basement door slams angrily shut just then, and Brett reemerges with his gym bag. He looks completely off his Zen now that it startles Stiles for a bit. He doesn't take his smoldering eyes off Theo while Stiles rummages inside the bag he's handed for the change of clothes, or even when Derek finally reappears, having prepared a hot shower for Stiles.

When he comes back to the basement, fresh and clean, Derek is still trying to figure out Theo, Brett is still trying to burn holes in Theo's skin, and Theo is still smirking at Stiles.

Stiles can't wait for the morning.

***


	2. drugs started feeling like it's decaf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same warnings apply; Stiles is sexing more than one character, the work is unedited by professionals, English is not my first language, and errors are everywhere.

Satomi and 6 others from her pack arrive just a little before 6:30, with Scott's pack following not more than 5 minutes later. Derek's pack came shortly after Isaac called them a few hours back and took turns staying with Stiles and Brett in the basement to watch their prisoner. Everyone is hyper-vigilant despite the lack of sleep and the early morning call.

Scott, Derek, and Brett stand by close to escort Theo to the dining room as Stiles crouches to break the mountain ash seal. Theo doesn't attempt to struggle as two alphas haul him to a standing position and start walking him outside the basement to the designated meeting area. Stiles is relieved that Theo's being complacent so far.

In the dining hall, Satomi is already seated by the table with the other betas are lounging close. She looks up as they enter and study the face of the alliance's current threat all while keeping a blank face. Derek pulls a chair from the table and gestures for Theo to sit. Theo quirks an eyebrow at the semi-circle of mountain ash surrounding the seat he's being offered.

"I thought we agreed that I'm not to be treated like a prisoner while I'm giving you information?" His tone is light but Stiles can hear him rolling his eyes inwardly.

Scott gives a small assuring smile, "We're going to take the ropes, Theo, just like we promised. The mountain ash is just an added caution for today."

Theo sits, scoffing. Allison hovers nearby, clutching the rest of the mountain ash to close the seal. Brett crouches, looking at Theo disdainfully as he untangles the rope from his ankles and wrists. He looks as thrilled as Ebenezer Scrooge untying the ribbons of a Christmas present.

"I didn't attack when you were just seven people," Theo drawls, holding Brett's gaze for a moment before moving his eyes to the rest. He pauses at Stiles for more than a second necessary, before eventually moving to the rest. "What makes you think I'll do anything stupid now that there's more than a dozen of you?"

Scott glances at Derek and Satomi. The two elder alphas don't answer and just remain to stare at Theo. Scott sighs and gives a tight-lipped smile that looks to Stiles like a grimace. "I'm sorry, Theo," was all he ends up saying.

Theo huffs, rubbing on the raw skin of his wrists as soon as Brett finishes with his hands. The reddening quickly starts to heal and before Allison can close the ash seal, the rope marks are completely gone. He turns to Scott again, then to Satomi, and finally Derek. "What if I tell you that mountain ash doesn't work on me?"

Derek frowns, but before he can reply, Brett snaps impatiently, pulling off the rubber gloves he's wearing. "Stop bluffing and start _talking_." He discards the gloves haphazardly somewhere to the side as if he's burnt by it, and sure enough, Stiles notices that even with it on, Brett's hands still have little gashes from handling a wolfsbane-laced item. Stiles mentally adds this to the list of _'Things He Will Berate Brett Talbot About'_ when they get a chance to be alone. Seriously, Stiles is the obvious candidate to do the untying, but Brett just won't have it. 

Theo regards the beta with an amused grin and then addresses the general public. "Fine. I'll tell you what you need to know but refrain from interrupting," he pointedly looks at both Allison and Isaac. The two glare back at him but keep their mouths shut tightly. "You can ask questions when I'm done so we can all save our time."

Stiles doesn't know where Theo gets his nerve to sound so haughty in the presence of three alphas and about a dozen betas. His suicidal attitude reminds Stiles of Peter somehow and that's not a fond thought at all. He should tell Derek later to never, ever let his uncle cross paths with Theo. They're already a handful separately; putting them together in a room is just too much of everything bad.

Satomi, in her cool and collected voice, tells Theo: "You may begin." 

Stiles shivers a little; he can't help it. Satomi manages to sound like she's requesting but evokes the intimidating aura of an aged, wisened alpha giving a command to lesser beings. She's the eldest in the room and Stiles has a grudging respect for her but she sometimes makes him thankful that his best friend is his alpha and not her. Stiles puts it to mind to congratulate Brett on surviving under her strict discipline after ranting to him later.

Derek and Scott don't move to take seats by the table. Brett pulls a chair and gestures for Stiles, who's just awkwardly observing from a safe distance, to sit. He does so gratefully, and Brett hovers behind him as Theo begins speaking.

The rest of the room has its attention to Theo, too. The six betas that Satomi brought along are lounging nearby, two are leaning against the counter, three are perched atop it, and one is standing idly behind Satomi. On the table, seven people are sitting: there's Satomi at the head of the table facing Theo, and a seat away from her are Lydia and Allison. On the other end, Cora is watching Theo with narrowed eyes. On her left, Malia (who's concentrated on Theo but more curious than suspicious), Erica, Isaac, and Stiles (directly across from Satomi) occupy the remaining seats. Boyd is leaning on the wall behind Erica, Brett leaning on the back of Stiles's seat, and Scott and Derek are standing on either side of Theo. Kira is absent at the moment, taking care of the remnants of their last villain.

"So, what you know so far is that I'm a hired assassin meant to go after Scott's pack," He waits for a nod from Scott before he continues. "And that I'm with two other hired killers for the Hale and Satomi packs."

Satomi's face remains carefully void but her posture tenses at the mention of a killer out to threaten her pack. They've had the same problem not long ago with Deucalion's alpha pack and the Darach. Unfortunately, Satomi's pack suffered the loss of two betas before they could successfully exile Deucalion and get rid of the Darach.

While the alpha pack was busy with trying to get Derek to kill one of his own and scheming to put a stopper to Scott's ascent to true alpha status, they also sidelined on antagonizing Satomi's pack. Satomi's pack is, in theory, not a threat because Satomi taught her pack to cohabitate with humans and other supernaturals peacefully. Essentially, they were weak because they chose to go neutral. But when Deucalion made the mistake of disrupting their Zen by murdering one of them, Satomi found it useless to remain passive and finally decided to tap on to their wolf advantages and fight back. They lost another one in battle but he went down swinging.

The fight against the Darach turned Scott to an alpha, thus forming the third pack in Beacon Hills. That's also when the alliance arose. This is the second threat they've encountered as allies.

Stiles feels Brett's fingers run on the back of his neck. Stiles leans closer to him and Brett seems to like that because of the pressure of his fingers' caresses increases. Brett never left Stiles again after his initial exit to retrieve the gym bag and Stiles couldn't be more relieved. Stiles can handle Theo. But he'd truthfully rather _not_ when it can be avoided. So, despite his initial annoyance about it, Brett refusing to leave his side was a welcome courtesy. Responding to Brett's light touches is just one way of showing his gratitude.

"You might think 'how the hell can a lone wolf manage to ruin a pack with a true alpha," he looks at Scott and then to the members occupying the table. "A banshee, a hunter, a were coyote, a kitsune, and..." his eyes slide to Stiles and the infuriating smirk is back again. "The smartest non-supernatural in a pack I've ever met?"

Stiles feels Brett's thumbs press hard on his nape, as his hands came around to hold on either side of his neck. Stiles, for his part, just purses his lips in response to Theo's statement. He can also feel several eyes on him and he dutifully set his eyes in front. He stares Theo down defiantly. He's not going to ruffle Stiles and make him squirm in his seat, no.

"That's about right," Isaac mutters. "Except I don't refer to you as an omega in my head. More like some cheap knockoff."

"Isaac," Cora raises a brow, the warning clear in her voice, reminding Stiles of Derek. The blond crosses his arms on his chest.

But Theo doesn't look insulted at all. Stiles wonders bitterly what will make him snap out of his insolence because once he learns it, Stiles will make sure to subject Theo to it repeatedly, unmercifully, and smirk right back at him while he's at it just so Theo fucking Raeken can have a taste of his own medicine. 

They'll be spending an awful lot of time together in the indefinite future, Stiles realizes, and he resolutely decides to make sure that the experience becomes just as hellish for the douchebag as it will be for Stiles. He gets a little comfort in the thought that the misery will be mutual.

"You know," Theo chuckles. Chuckles. "Funny that you say that. You're not far from the truth, Isaac."

Isaac bites back a retort at Derek's sharp look.

"I am, to crudely put it, a _cheap knockoff_ ," Theo announces to the general audience. "That is to say, I'm not entirely supernatural."

Derek sighs through his nose, "We're _all_ not entirely supernatural."

"Yes," Theo nods. "But you're equal parts human and animal, even the bitten werewolves. I'm more human than wolf."

Scott shifts uncertainly, "What do you mean, Theo?"

Theo looks up to the alpha. "I'm a chimera."

Silence follows Theo's statement, and uneasy, and confused glances are exchanged in the room. Scott and Derek turn expectantly to Stiles, Lydia, and Allison since the trio is the most familiar with the bestiary. Said trio glance at each other in question, too, and finds themselves on an equal footing about it. That is to say, they are just as foggy.

Lydia leans to the table, however, and speaks for the first time. "Do you mean to tell us you're some kind of fire-breathing Greek mythological figure?"

"Not quite _that_ chimera," Theo chuckles again.

She narrows her eyes suspiciously and stares ahead with a thoughtful look, realization sparkling her eyes. "A genetic chimera?" She whispers almost as an afterthought when she focuses again on Theo.

Theo grins widely.

Stiles is fast to face Lydia. "A _genetic chimera_?" Lydia nods slowly, seemingly still processing the information. "A _supernatural_ genetic chimera? With at least two sets of DNA? A _hybrid_?" Stiles regards Theo in a different light. Just when he thought nothing will surprise him any longer, an anomaly presents itself on Stiles. "You're not born, nor bitten... or scratched, for that matter. Not even _turned_." 

Stiles didn't pose it as a question but Theo shakes his head all the same.

"You're..." Stiles pauses. Is this possible? Is it written anywhere in the laws of the supernatural that they can be---

" _Made_." He finishes for Stiles.

"Great," a werewolf from Satomi's pack, one of the three sitting on the counter, is shaking his head in disgust. "So people out there are purposely _making_ supernatural creatures now?"

"To assassinate other supernatural creatures," Boyd adds, befuddlement coloring his face. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Theo," Satomi addresses the chimera. "Do you mind continuing? The questions can come _later_." Her eyes didn't leave Theo's but it's obvious she's addressing everybody with the same alpha-command-voice. Several fidgets in their position, Stiles fiddling his fingers at the new-found information, but no one says anything more.

Theo leans in his seat and continues.

***

There are six chimeras currently in the Argents' payroll to do their dirty deeds. Three are in Beacon Hills while the others are back in the Dread Doctors' laboratory, awaiting tasks ---lists of supernaturals they have to murder to land in their laps. Theo takes the assignment for Scott's pack, someone named Donovan is going after Satomi's, and a Josh after Derek's.

Only six of them are essentially successful experiments to this day and they're all hybrids of varying creatures. Theo, Stiles learns, is a part werewolf, and a part were-coyote (Malia cocks her head to the side, nodding her head as if something finally falls into place in her mind, and concluding with a useless ' _hm_ ' and a shrug). He is supposedly the first successful chimera, and is, therefore, the first and longest to be trained by the Dread Doctors and Argent hunters for his ' _purpose_ '. He had been the only chimera for about two years before the next accomplishment came: Donovan. 

The Argents that are supposedly funding the experiments is a big, influential clan of hunters basing in Paris but has satellite units all over the US, but Theo specifically mentions _Corpus Cristi_ to be the Dread Doctors' base of operation. They are distant relatives of Allison but even she doesn't know anything about this group of Argents. Granted, she and her dad, Chris, are pariahs to their clan ever since they decided to run with the creatures they're meant to hunt and shun their family's head, Gerard.

Three scientists are leading the experiments but Theo said he's never seen their faces because they don masks and speak in a mechanical voice. What Theo knows is that one is a surgeon, one a pathologist, and one is a geneticist. But Theo calls them psychopaths collectively, as it should take one (or _three_ ) to make one (or _six_ ), he says.

Theo tells them of the hours of combative training with the Argents, as well as the supernatural honing with his ' _creators_ '. He practices his abilities with the other chimeras every day until the Argents have deemed them ready for the real action. Theo confesses on having killed supernatural creatures previously to pass the Argents' tests, an initiation rites into the payroll department before he gets entrusted with the job in Beacon Hills. Only the ruthless gets paid.

That's when the target profiles are dumped on Theo's lap one month ago. He says that the information on the folder is insignificant so he suggests thorough spying on his targets first to form a credible plan of action. That's why he's been lurking in the shadows, observing all of them in silence for almost two weeks now, gathering ammunition.

He also declares that while they are cheap knockoffs, the chimeras have an advantage for gaining the perks (heightened hearing and olfactory senses, receptiveness to intoxication, quick healing, and the specific traits of their specific animal hybrid) while still being susceptible to common weaknesses.

"What do you mean?"

"I did tell you the mountain ash doesn't work on me, right?"

"You can _cross_ mountain ash?"

"I can cross it, touch it, probably even bathe in it."

"... and wolfsbane?"

"Is just a plant on occasion; an irritant on bad days."

Everyone snaps to attention, panic rising in the air that makes Theo laugh. "I said I'm immune to _wolfsbane_ , not to death. If you cut my throat out, that'll be it."

"Is than an invitation?"

" _Isaac_!"

But Derek and Scott visibly tense in their position, ready to pounce on the slightest provocation, even though Theo doesn't shift from his slack. Even the audience is more attentive now with the knowledge that their means of containing hostile supernaturals is practically useless. Stiles surreptitiously glances at the place behind Scott where the wolfsbane-laced ropes are currently sprawled. He can leap from his seat and reach it in under 3 seconds. Wolfsbane supposedly doesn't poison Theo but he did admit to it being an irritant. At least that's something Stiles can use if the situation turns for the worst. Additionally, he still has the knife in the pocket of Brett's hoodie. 

Theo could be bluffing, that can be a thing, too. He doesn't move out of the circle or makes a show of breaking it to prove his susceptibility to it. If he is unaffected by mountain ash, he should already have displayed his advantage, right? The smug bastard. Either way, Stiles likes to be prepared with a defense plan. 

Theo ignores the change of atmosphere (he seems to be good at ignoring people's reaction to him. In fact, he seems to bask in the fact that he can catch them off guard and make them scramble for defenses even when they outnumber him _17:1_ ) and proceeds to give them full descriptions of Donovan and Josh. He also recites the addresses of their temporary hideouts where, if searched, they can collect fake documents, weapons, and the packs' profile that the chimeras are studiously reorganizing and updating from their weeks of spying.

And that sounds all kinds of wrong to Stiles. They've been tailed, even the were-creatures, without their knowledge or suspicion. That speaks a lot about how utterly bare they are, practically inviting the monsters to town. The chimeras are either extremely professional in espionage (the Argents did supposedly train them, after all, that's got to count to something), or the alliance has practically no defenses at all. Stiles embarrassingly, _horrifyingly_ , thinks it's the latter. 

How the hell did the chimeras' manage to stay out of the radar for so long?

Theo answers Stiles's unspoken question. "If we're not shifted," Theo explains, eyes on Stiles as if he knows what's going on in his head. What, is he a psychic now too? "We're just normal humans. Scent and all."

Scott nods uneasily, "That explains why I couldn't smell him immediately. There's an undertone of something _odd_ , but it's not enough to raise an alarm. The town itself is charged with chemical signals as it is."

"I was provoking him when I showed him my eyes," Isaac confesses suddenly. "I was trying to get a reaction because I wasn't sure what he's supposed to be." He swallows before adding very quietly, "I thought it was just me."

"Scott is right," Derek adds, his expression tight and troubled. "There is an undertone on him but it's very faint. Like he's been around, or within considerable range, of supernatural creatures, or just been in the town long enough. Isaac can't detect it because he's neither alpha nor a born werewolf. Or one who's learned to fully shift."

Lydia leans hesitantly, "And this _undertone_ ," she says slowly. "It doesn't identify him as supernatural?"

It's Satomi who answers albeit ominously. "Not exactly."

Well, that's a bummer. These Dread Doctors did make one hell of an assassin. How are they supposed to fight these chimeras if they're practically undetectable if they choose to be? 

Which begs the question: why the hell is Theo exposing himself and the others when they already have the perfect disguise? What can he gain from the alliance that the Dread Doctors and Argents can't give him? Sure, the Hales have money, but Stiles isn't sure it's enough to compensate what the Argents' money can provide him if he succeeds where most have failed.

Stiles's protectiveness is gearing on. "What's your price for selling out this information?"

Theo's smirk is back again, obnoxious as always. "One tiny favor," he smiles. "I want in on the pack."

***

"He's kidding, right?" Isaac deadpans, looking at the few people left in the dining room. The meeting is abruptly ended when Theo's declaration causes an uproar. Because, _what the actual fuck_? You don't just ask to join a pack. Especially not when you are about as trustworthy as a starving snake. "He must be kidding."

Satomi's six betas, along with Boyd, Cora, and Allison escort Theo into a room on the second floor. It's decided that he's going to stay in the Hale house for the rest of the day and tonight, guarded by the nine mentioned people plus Derek while his new detainment location is being discussed and prepared.

"I'm sure he's not," Stiles sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache coming through. He hasn't slept since last night. "But that's not our main concern for now."

"Stiles is right," Derek says and Stiles can't help but raise his head. It's not the first time that Derek agrees with Stiles, but he still can't stop the pulsing in his veins when Derek does it. He should hate himself for craving Derek's approval, but really, Stiles thinks he deserves the satisfaction of at least knowing that Derek thinks he's smart and trusts him for all the times the werewolf has made him feel little for constantly rejecting him romantically. "He told us a lot of things and that equals a lot of investigations while still staying vigilant for the other two chimeras."

Satomi nods, "And there's also the matter of his custody. You have agreed to get him off the binds and for Stiles to be his watcher. How do we make this possible while not risking his safety?"

Luckily, Stiles has already given at least this one a thought. So he tells them his plan. 

"Are you crazy?" Brett blurts out indignantly. " _Not_. _Happening_."

Even Derek looks dubious. "He chose you for a reason. That means he wants something from you, Stiles. If you do this, we're only giving him exactly what he wants." Something passes in Derek's expression, and Stiles makes sure to stare back to convey a message.

Malia props her foot on the table, crossing her arms. "He likes Stiles. We can use that for our advantage." She says casually.

Brett whips his head to her direction and regards her angrily. "Are you suggesting we use Stiles as some sort of _bait_?"

Malia shrugs, spreading her palms up as if it should be obvious. "If he had liked me, I'd have done it myself."

"Stiles," Scott starts. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"I think it _is_ ," Erica gives her input on the matter while biting on an apple. "There's more that he is withholding. If someone can make him talk, it's Stiles. And not just because he's potentially interested in him. But Stiles has a _marvelous_ ability to annoy information out of people."

Stiles gives her a half-hearted glare.

"Okay, but at _his house_?" Isaac points out. 

"It's the last place the two other chimeras will suspect if they decide to look for him," Lydia says. "We'll have to arm Stiles and someone has to stay with him. Someone that won't incite suspicions for being around so much. And Stiles's dad can help add protective measures."

"We can't bind him _or_ trap him," Brett gnashes his teeth. "What protective measures are you talking about?"

"Guys, _please_!" Stiles intervenes, hearing enough. He knows his idea is risky, might even be stupid, but he has to try. "If we keep yelling about how _dumb_ my idea is, we'll have no plan left. He can hear us. He's probably listening right now. You'll just have to _trust_ me."

That makes them grumble under their breath but they do stop raising their voices. Most of them still look unconvinced (at least Derek is now mostly just his usual thoughtful self) ---and Stiles already knows he won't convince them to think this is anything but dumb, but at least they'll have to trust him that he acknowledges the risk and that it _is_ dumb but he has a plan how to turn that around or save his ass when it turns for the worst. 

Finally, Satomi nods. "Very well," Brett sputters in disbelief but doesn't say anything more. Someone should take a camera and capture this moment because Brett is doing a three-sixty degree and if Stiles isn't busy calculating the odds of him dying in this bodyguard duty or for his plan to work, he would've been amused. "But you have to tell us how we can assist."

Stiles smiles. 

***

Stiles opens his mouth and welcomes Brett's tongue to map at the insides like he's done many times now. Brett always likes to kiss him even when they're not fucking but more so when they are and Stiles admits that it turns him on the way Brett seems to want to _devour_ him. 

He whimpers loudly at that particular well-aimed thrust that makes Brett angle his hips to batter on that same spot again and again. Reaching every nook and cranny of Stiles's inside is no problem to Brett. He's well endowed, just like Derek, deliciously thick and long, and he can also make Stiles lose his mind to the euphoria. Stiles didn't know he cared about size when he'd learned that taking it up the ass is something he wants to try. He had thought then that as long as it's a dick and it's attached to Derek Hale, he'd be perfectly happy whatever the size or girth may be. 

Not that he thought Derek would be _inadequate_ in that area at all. I mean, it's _Derek Hale_ , the broody alpha with beautiful eyes, beautiful jaw, beautiful collarbone, beautiful chest, beautiful abs --- _of course_ , his cock has to be beautiful and perfect as the rest of him, it makes _total sense_. 

When they had sex for the first time, after the evil fox spirit debacle, Stiles felt scared (and _thrilled_ ) to be face-to-face with Derek's dick because --- _my god_. It had been a wondrous night to lose his rear virginity. The only downside is: Derek doesn't kiss him; he turns his head away when Stiles attempts to catch his mouth, and the blatant disregard afterward. He refuses to look at Stiles or say anything. But honestly, his silence had said _everything_. 

Yet, Stiles keeps on coming back and getting heartbroken. He thought then that it might be the extent of his sexual experience with men because he couldn't _quit_ on Derek. And then Brett happened, and he was giving Stiles what Derek wouldn't. Stiles figured, if he couldn't stop wounding his pride with Derek, he had to mend it somewhere, right? And there's Brett. Handsome, loyal, protective Brett Talbot. He's hot, too, okay, and that helps make quick decisions? And he loves kissing Stiles like he needs it to _breathe_ , and Stiles feels wanted. He feels... _loved_.

Brett pulls back from the kiss and looks at Stiles in the eyes as he thrust slow but hard; each snap of his hips home drives Stiles deeper into the mattress, and just a bit crazier as his prostate vibrates happily with Brett's apt attention to it. 

Brett runs a tender hand on one of Stiles's legs wrapped in his waist. His other hand is caressing Stiles's hair and whatever else he can reach. Stiles sighs at the gesture, the roaming hand now tickling the inside of his thigh. Brett smiles smugly, driving into Stiles more forcefully, bending his body just a bit more, and picking up the pace finally.

Stiles tightens his hold on Brett's back as the angle changes again, pushing one of Stiles's legs further open and up so Stiles's bottom is off the bed and Brett reaches even deeper inside him.

Stiles is still sore from his encounter with Derek just hours ago and now he's being rammed into the mattress by another werewolf with a big, fat, fucking dick, and stamina that Stiles is infinitely blessed to experience. He's sure he won't be able to sit later without visibly wincing. It'll be worth it, he decides.

Brett peppers soft kisses on his face, and it feels so intimate. Stiles enjoys the attention, but it makes him feel guilty, too. Brett is so open with Stiles; practically worshipping him the way Stiles wants to worship Derek if only he's allowed. And what's even more ironic? Stiles ignores the obvious declaration of Brett's feelings by pretending he's oblivious about it. He doesn't dismiss him the way Derek does Stiles, but he feigns knowledge about it even though both he and Brett knows Stiles is anything but oblivious. The werewolf doesn't push himself to Stiles or even tell him off for the fact that he's being used as a rebound. Brett just takes what he can get from Stiles.

How awful is their situation, right? But Stiles learns Brett is just as self-destructive as him.

Stiles feels teeth nipping at the same spot Derek has marked earlier. Brett sucks on the skin hard, as if trying to cover the bruise that's already there with one of his own. To cover Derek's mark. To fill the void Derek left and give him more than Derek ever will. He's fulfilling his role passionately. 

It's even proven better when Brett traces the shell of his ear and whispers: "What do you want, Stiles? What do you want me to do?"

His mind is so foggy but he's always prepared to answer because he knows Brett will ask. He always does. "Touch me. _Please_."

Brett smiles, "With pleasure," and he reaches between them to take Stiles's neglected dick in his hand. Stiles doesn't stop the loud groan. His grip is enough to apply the best amount of pressure. Brett smears Stiles's pre-come on his hand and slides it up and down the shaft, slow at first, the pace gradually increasing, until he seems like a man on a mission delivering a promise through his hand and unrelenting cock. 

Brett's eyes don't leave Stiles's, and the intensity to which he pours his heart out to him as if he deserves it when they both know he doesn't, makes Stiles come in long, hot spurts, between them with a very loud, very expressive, dragged-out cry.

Brett falters with a groan as Stiles tightens around him. His head falls to the crook of his neck with a breathless, broken whisper of " _Fucking beautiful_." He immediately picks up where he left off, faster, losing his rhythm, chasing his high. Just a few more thrusts later, he stills and comes inside Stiles jerkily.

After a few moments of catching their breaths, they kiss again, sweet and slow. Stiles caresses Brett's sweaty face when they pull back and he smiles dazedly at him. Brett looks at him like he just fell in love all over again.

***

Another thing he enjoys about this thing with Brett is their after-sex hangout. Stiles sneaks a bottle of JD from his dad's _super-secret-only-when-fucking-exhausted_ stash in the kitchen and brings it up to his room. Alcohol doesn't affect the werewolves so Brett just sits beside Stiles, sprawled on the floor against the side of the bed, and drinks indulgently for the acquaintanceship. When Stiles is done and passed out, Brett picks him up from the floor and tucks him to bed with a soft kiss on the forehead. 

He listens to Stiles talk about everything ---Stiles even spills his feelings because _in vino veritas_ right? Alcohol makes the mouth loosen up. He doesn't believe it's courage that makes him speak, but hope. Hope that when it's finally out, it stops being a heavyweight inside. It helps for a bit, at least ---a futile escape because when he wakes up it's still there. 

In rare moments, Brett even allows himself to get drunk with Stiles. That is, he adds a bit of wolfsbane in his glass and _voila_ , both him and Stiles are reduced to a slobbering mess. Brett says things about himself and his life that Stiles will never otherwise hear, and he keeps what he's learned to himself as a return favor. They never really talk about them ---what was said in the moment of vulnerability, stays in that moment and doesn't accompany them back to sobriety.

"So," Brett says after a sip of whiskey. "You have a metal dungeon in your basement."

"Yup," is Stiles's short affirmation.

Brett turns to him, "Do you have a secret tunnel connected to the important places of this town?" 

"Huh," Stiles looks thoughtful. "No. But I _should_ have one made."

"Have a pathway straight to my bedroom," Brett nods in agreement. "So I can come to you easily."

Stiles chuckles, cheeks starting to flush from the drink. "You mean to come _in_ _me_ easily," he shakes his head and tuts playfully. "You're addicted to me." He accuses with a finger poking the werewolf's face.

Brett is fast to catch the finger with his teeth. "I am," He makes sure not to bite too much, and he looks straight into Stiles's soul when closes his lips around it and sucks while his tongue laps at the finger enthusiastically.

Stiles stares as his finger vanishes inside Brett's mouth with wide, bright eyes. His lips have also fallen open at the ministrations, but when he shifts from his position, his ass sends him a warning throb. He pulls his finger out, shaking his head quickly at Brett's dilating eyes. " _No_ , _no_ , nuh-uh. My ass is _sore_ , okay? And knowing you, it's going to take us another hour and I'm _done_ today, okay? Done."

"We both have mouths, Stiles."

" _Finished_."

Brett chuckles as Stiles grumbles something that sounds like _fucking werewolves_ and _inhuman stamina_ before sipping from his glass.

"So," Brett starts again. "How did this dungeon come to be?"

Stiles winces as the liquid burns its way down his throat. "It was---" he clears his throat because it still feels aflame. "just after the Nogitsune episode."

Brett quirks an eyebrow. Stiles never really wants to talk about that particular moment in his life. Even when he's drunk, he knows enough than to tackle it. So it's a little surprising to hear him discuss it without the usual dark shadow passing in his face, and he's not even drunk yet.

"I had nightmares for weeks," Stiles continues. "And I keep waking up in different places. The worst was the first 3 days or so. I know I'm not possessed anymore, but I can't help but _feel_ like it. Like my body's not mine anymore. Like it's doing someone else's bidding."

Brett leans closer as he listens intently.

"When I woke up on the third night," Stiles's eyes look so far away as if he's replaying in his head what he's narrating to Brett. "I was in the kitchen. Slicing a cabbage on one hand and just fiddling a kitchen ax in the other." He turns to Brett. "I begged dad to handcuff me to the bed. My wrists and ankles. He refused. I told him I don't want to wake up slicing _someone_ important."

Brett shakes his head. He can't imagine how awful that must have gone. He wouldn't know to be afraid of his safety or Stiles's. 

"The next day, I called Derek." Stiles pauses, glancing at Brett's reaction. His face is tight but he gestures for Stiles to continue. "I asked him to help me convert our basement into a room that can contain me if I end up losing my mind completely. It's the only way I can feel safe from hurting anybody. It was that or _Eichen_. Dad would sooner lose his legs than put me back inside."

Brett understands the Sheriff. Putting Stiles into Eichen House was the _worst_ decision. He came out possessed by a thousand-year-old trickster spirit in just 24 hours, after all.

"Derek hired someone his family knew to install steel walls and a metal bar for the door. The entire room can be activated with live electricity of about 50,000 volts." Stiles picks the bottle of JD and pours more contents to his glass. "We never used that option, though. I never went crazy ---at least, I think I'm not. I'm making stupid decisions after stupid decisions, after all."

"That makes you _stupid_ ," Brett says seriously. "Not crazy."

Stiles snorts, "Anyway, so that's how the too-many-zeroes room was installed. Because I panicked. Defendibly so. Now though, we'll finally have proper use of it."

"This is why Derek didn't actively turn down your idea," Brett remembers Derek's calm contribution to the discussion like he was worried, but he agreed to the, then, completely dumb and suicidal plan. "Because he understands your plan."

Stiles nods.

"Who else knows?"

"Scott. Just the three us and dad before. Now you."

Brett can't help the smile tugging in the corners of his lips. He looks away, bringing his glass to his mouth, feeling suddenly like a huge weight is taken from his chest.

Stiles speaks again after a moment. "By the way, I have a question."

"Hm?"

"How the hell do you not _piss your pants_ whenever Satomi speaks?"

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update every five days (or less).

**Author's Note:**

> The fic and chapter titles are taken from The Hills (The Weekend)


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